Poem For My Brother
by WOWZAcoolBEANS
Summary: There is a line between love and obsession. Vincent tends to blur this line. But the protectiveness that he feels towards his brother is sincere, though frightening. A poem for Gil from the past comes to light and shows his feelings have never changed.


**Title:** Poem For My Brother

**Summary:** There is a line between love and obsession. Vincent tends to get this line confused. Nevertheless, the protectiveness that he feels towards his brother is sincere… if not a bit frightening.

**Rating: **T

**A/N**: This turned out really creepy. . But I did want to write it. The poem is what came first; I had the idea while I was on vacation. So this is what became of it… Yes. Hope that you enjoy or at least are not thoroughly creeped out. Because I was the latter.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Pandora Hearts, because if I did, Eliot would admit that he has feelings for Oz (because he totally does).

_I love my older brother,_

_I love him quite a lot._

_I'll try to make him happy_

_Even when I'm not._

_He had been there for me_

_So now I take my turn._

_I love my older brother,_

_So much my heart does burn._

Snip. Snip. Snip. Chop. Chop. Chop. One by one the heads of the dolls fell off. Next went their arms, then legs, then the stuffing inside of them. Snip. Snip. Snip.

"Vincent." That was nothing. Chop. Chop. Chop. "Mr. Nightray?" Just a servant, nothing more. Snip. Snip. Snip. Chop. Chop- this doll was done. He needed another. "If you could please open your door, you have a guest."

The scissors were put down momentarily. "Who would that be?"

Relief washed over the servant; master Vincent was a frightening man when he spoke, but when he was silent, not a sound but the snapping of his scissors, he was terrifying. "Your brother, sir."

Clang. Something was thrown against the door. It sounded heavy; the servant took a fearful step back. "I have more than one brother." He paused, and the servant could hear him mutter beneath his breath, but she could not understand the words that came from his deranged mouth. "Which one of my brothers would like to see me?"

Desperate to stay composed, she took a deep breath. "Your blood brother, sir; Master Gilbert has come for a visit."

The door flew open, and her master looked eager and happy, far different than he had been a few moments ago. Behind him his room was filled with the stuffing of children's toys, decapitated by his hands. Childhood, killed by his inner child. "Where is he? Why are you standing there? Lead him in, immediately! My dearest brother should not be kept waiting!" Happy to be away from Vincent, the servant did as she was told, not pausing to think of how he looked down upon her.

Rushing back into his room, Vincent grabbed the discarded carcasses of the toys that were was his pleasure to destroy, and threw them into a corner of the room. The remnants of his enjoyment, string, stuffing and cloth still was scattered about his floor, but that didn't matter. Gil was coming… Gil was coming… That was something to be celebrated! His older brother was coming to visit him; a rare occasion that was also one of the most celebrated.

Gil was coming.

"Master Vincent, I've brought your brother." Dropping the piece of a teddy bear that he had been holding, he sauntered to the door where with that hag of a maid, stood the stunning Gilbert Nightray, looking at the floor, his black hair falling into his eyes.

Smiling, he pushed the maid to the side with his shoulder, gently, of course, and pulled his arms around his brother. "Gilly, I'm so glad that you're here." He squeezed his brother as tight as he could, pressing body against body. His head turned to the servant. "You are dismissed."

Nodding quickly, she ran off, uninterested in being in the same room as Master Vincent any longer.

Dragging his brother inside of his room, he gestured to a seat, which Gil took. "You're being very quiet, Gil. It was you who came to me, remember. There must have been something that you needed to tell me." He smiled. "Unless, of course, you just missed your flesh and blood."

Gil sat, but said nothing. They had been in this situation before; more and more Gil was coming to him. "Vince, I-"

"While you're here, however, I have a sort of strange question for you." His brother looked up, but said nothing. Vincent took this as an opportunity to keep speaking, his eyes twinkling with delight; this had been on his mind for some time. "Gilbert, you say that you'll kill anyone who wants to bring your master harm, right?" His brother nodded. "Of course, of course, so then what would you do if your master wanted to harm himself?"

Gilbert looked up at his brother, confused. "What do you mean by that?"

Vincent chuckled a bit and walked over to the side of the table that Gilbert was sitting at. He wrapped his arms around his brother and draped his body over Gilbert's. "I mean, what if Oz were… suicidal or something of that sort, would you kill him?"

"Of course not."

"But Gilly, you told me that you'd kill _anyone_ who wants to bring harm to your master, and if he-" Violently, Gilbert pushed his brother off of him. Able to catch his balance before hitting the floor, Vincent smiled as Gilbert panted, desperate for air, confusion in the depths of his eyes. So easily manipulated with just a few words.

How pathetic, his older brother was. How beautiful Gilbert was, as well.

"I would never do anything to harm Oz, and you know that Vince." Gilbert's head remained staring at the table in front of him; he couldn't even look at his younger brother.

Laughing once again, Vincent returned to the table, the side across from Gil, and sat down. "No need to be so flustered, Gilly, it was just a hypothetical situation." Across and under the table, Gilbert had his fists clenched.

"I did have a reason for coming here, Vince."

"And what would that be?" Vincent wished that he could reach for his brother's hand, but neither of his was on the table. Irritated, he put his own hands on the table and intertwined his fingers, waiting for his brother's answer.

Gilbert closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "I remember something."

Vincent felt like he had just been dropped ten stories. "And what would that be, Gilbert?" He asked, desperately hoping that it was not something having to do with the Tragedy of Sabrie or what he, himself, had done there. Those memories were bitter ones, ones that Gilbert did not need. It would be better for him to be rid of his fixation on the past and to focus on the present; the past was full of ghosts, ones that even Vincent did not care to think about.

"It's a poem." Gilbert paused, looking out of the window that was in the room and the trees that were outside of it. "Something that you wrote when we were little." The wind swayed through the branches, making the leaves dance. "I don't remember anything else but the words and you saying them. You seemed very proud when you told it to me; you had apparently worked very hard."

Trying to not let the immense relief that he felt show on his face, he spoke, leaning in, interested in what his brother had to say. "I don't recall any poetry…" He took his hands apart and placed one on his older brother's arm. "Recite it for me, Gilly."

Gilbert's face turned red like the cutest of tomatoes; it was wonderful to see Gilbert so flustered. "Vince, I don't think that I can remember-"

"Gilbert, do this for me?"

So easily manipulated, so effortlessly swayed.

Within a few short seconds, Gilbert nodded and cleared his throat, not sure how to begin. But Vincent knew how it was supposed to begin; he had always known how it was supposed to begin. In his life he had only ever written one piece of poetic garbage, a childish attempt at a rhyme to show his brother the depth of his feelings for him. It was silly and amateurish but…

"I love my older brother," Gilbert began, his voice shaking and his eyes glued to the ground. Poetry was a world of love and happiness, a world that he had not had much experience with. "I love him quite a lot." It was trite, but true. Then and now, Vincent's feelings, at core, had not changed. "I'll try to make him happy even when I'm not." In a sense, that was still correct. If Gilbert's happiness depended on someone's death, then Vincent would happily sully his hands. "He had been there for me," And the proof of that was sitting across from Vincent; no matter how he wished to run, Gilbert could never escape his little brother. "So now it is my turn." Everything Vincent did would always be for the sake of his brother. "I love my older brother-"

"So much my heart does burn." Vincent concluded, his own eyes averted from his brother's.

Gilbert looked up. "You remember?" There was hope in his brother's eyes, a yearning for truth. He was still searching for the memories that he should have happily forgotten; Vincent didn't like that.

"No." His brother had that cute little confused look on his face again. "It's just that the sentiment is the same as it was then." Vincent smiled, his eyes staring at his brother, trying with a gentle pull to reach into the depths of his soul. "I love you, Gilly."

"And I love you too, Vince."

And that was just the way that Vincent wanted things to be.

_Fin_


End file.
